Chapter 16 Chapter 16
The mansion felt like a war zone. Blood streaked the walls of the study, the air thick with the metallic tang of violence. The bodies of the intruders had been dragged away, but their presence lingered like a ghost. Damien sat in his chair, his shirt soaked with blood from the bullet wound at his side. Marcus stood behind him, his jaw tight, his gun still in hand.
I hovered near the doorway, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst. Damien’s breathing was labored, but his eyes burned with fury. Even injured, he looked like a man who could tear the world apart with his bare hands.
“How did they get in?” Damien’s voice was low, cold, and sharp enough to cut through steel.
Marcus shook his head, his expression grim. “Someone let them in. There’s no other explanation.”
The words sent a chill down my spine. Someone inside the mansion had betrayed him. Someone had wanted him dead.
Damien’s gaze flicked to me, his eyes narrowing. “Lisa,” he said, his tone unreadable. “You were in the study before the attack. What were you doing there?”
The weight of his question pressed down on me, the truth burning in my pocket. I hesitated, my mind racing. If I told him about the note, it might save me. But it might also drag me even deeper into his world, a place I wasn’t sure I could survive.
“I—” My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard. “I found something.”
His eyes darkened, and he leaned forward despite the pain it clearly caused him. “What did you find?”
With trembling hands, I pulled the note from my pocket and held it out to him. Marcus stepped forward to take it, his eyes scanning the words before he handed it to Damien.
For a moment, the room was silent. Damien’s expression didn’t change as he read the note, but the air around him seemed to grow heavier, charged with a quiet, deadly rage.
“Where did you find this?” he demanded, his voice dangerously quiet.
“Under my pillow,” I said quickly. “I don’t know who put it there. I swear, Damien, I didn’t—”
“I know,” he interrupted, his gaze locking onto mine. “If you were involved, you wouldn’t have shown me this.”
Relief flooded through me, but it was short-lived. Damien turned to Marcus, his expression hard. “Search every room. I want every inch of this house turned upside down. Find out who’s responsible, and bring them to me.”
Marcus nodded and left the room, barking orders to the other men as he went.
The next few hours were a blur of chaos. Damien’s men stormed through the mansion, tearing through drawers, breaking locks, interrogating anyone who so much as looked at them the wrong way. The once-majestic halls now felt like the inside of a prison, every shadow hiding a potential enemy.
Damien didn’t rest. Despite his injury, he moved through the house like a man possessed, his eyes scanning every face for signs of betrayal.
I stayed close, though I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the lingering guilt of withholding the note for as long as I had. Or maybe it was the fear that if I left his side, I’d become a suspect too.
It wasn’t long before the interrogations began. One by one, Damien called everyone into the study—guards, staff, even Claudia.
When it was my turn, my stomach twisted into knots.
I stepped into the study, my gaze immediately drawn to Damien. He sat behind the desk, his wound freshly bandaged but his face pale from the blood loss. His eyes, however, were as sharp as ever.
“Sit,” he said, his voice cold.
I obeyed, my hands trembling as I folded them in my lap.
“You’ve been honest with me so far,” he began, his gaze piercing. “But I need to know if there’s anything else you’re keeping from me.”
“There’s nothing,” I said quickly, my voice shaking. “I told you everything I know.”
He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “You didn’t tell me about the note right away. Why?”
My breath hitched, and I forced myself to meet his gaze. “I didn’t know what to do,” I admitted. “I didn’t know if I could trust you.”
The words hung in the air like a challenge, and for a moment, I thought he might lash out. But instead, he leaned back, his expression unreadable.
“Fair enough,” he said finally.
His response caught me off guard, but I didn’t dare let my relief show.
The interrogation continued late into the night. By the time Damien finished, the house was eerily quiet, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating.
I found him in the study, standing by the window with a glass of whiskey in his hand. The moonlight cast harsh shadows across his face, highlighting the exhaustion in his eyes.
“Did you find out who it was?” I asked softly, stepping into the room.
He didn’t turn to look at me. “Not yet,” he said. “But I will.”
There was a finality to his words that sent a shiver down my spine.
I hesitated, then took a step closer. “Damien… what are you going to do?”
He turned to face me, his expression hard. “What I should have done a long time ago.”
I frowned, not understanding. “What do you mean?”
He set the glass down on the desk, his movements slow and deliberate. “Victor,” he said, his voice low but filled with venom. “This was his doing. He knew exactly how to hit me where it hurts. And now, he’s going to pay for it.”
My stomach twisted at the cold determination in his voice. “You don’t know that it was him,” I said, though even as the words left my mouth, I knew they were pointless.
Damien’s eyes flashed with anger. “Of course it was him,” he snapped. “Who else would have the resources, the motive? He’s been trying to undermine me for months, and now he’s escalated.”
I opened my mouth to argue but stopped myself. There was no reasoning with him, not when he was like this.
“What are you going to do?” I asked again, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.
He stepped closer, the intensity in his gaze making my breath catch. “I’m going to destroy him,” he said, his voice deadly calm. “Him and anyone who stands with him.”
The words sent a chill through me, but I couldn’t look away. This wasn’t just about power or revenge. This was personal.
“Damien… are you sure that’s the right move?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned back to the window, his jaw tight. “It’s the only move,” he said.
I wanted to argue, to protest, but the look in his eyes stopped me. This wasn’t a man who could be reasoned with.
This was a man preparing for war.
The next morning, the mansion was a flurry of activity. Damien’s men moved with purpose, their faces grim as they prepared for whatever was coming. Guns were cleaned, maps were studied, and plans were whispered in hushed tones.
I stayed in my room, the weight of Damien’s declaration pressing down on me like a physical force.
He was going to war.
And I wasn’t sure any of us would survive it.